


cornerstone

by bubbleteabunny



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, F/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 11:01:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11401170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubbleteabunny/pseuds/bubbleteabunny
Summary: Stephen loves you more than anything else, and it's hard to come to terms with the fact you were never his to begin with.





	cornerstone

It’s with the utmost confidence that Stephen could say he loved you. It almost surprises him to be so sure of himself that way, because life is full of uncertainties but apparently for him, the way he feels about you is not one of them. If he’s honest, it’s hard not to be so taken by you. When you smile, it’s genuine, and he knows this because your eyes crinkle slightly at the corners. It’s a smile that’s warm and inviting, one you’ve given to everyone, even Stephen, the first time you’d met him, despite the fact you hadn’t known more than his first name at that point. He tries to figure out what had him so drawn to you in the first place, and he owes it to that smile, because everyone is so drawn to it, and he’s no different.

To be so sure about the love of one’s life is something Stephen doesn’t doubt is envied by many. People spend all their lives waiting, hoping for their second half to be just around the corner. Stephen had, in contrast, been taken by surprise. He hadn’t been expecting anything, but quite literally he had turned that corner and he’d run into you, rushing along as you were to meet someone at the café farther down the block, and he’d steadied you with his hands on your arms while you apologized profusely for knocking into him so hard. And when he’d reassured you that it was fine, you’d calmed down, gracing him with that beautiful smile, the one that signaled to him that this had to be it—you were the end of the road for him.

Though he’d felt that surge of warmth, of certainty, upon meeting you, there hadn’t been the same look in your own eyes, and maybe he just wasn’t looking hard enough, or maybe he was just ignoring the fact it hadn’t gone down the same way for you. Ignorance is bliss, after all, but it’s hard to ignore the fact that the “someone” at the café was your boyfriend, and three months down the road your fiancé, and in another six your husband.

You and Stephen had become good friends after that day you ran into each other, neither of you can deny, and he’d been there to watch the relationship with your partner grow, but it hurt. It really did, and you would never know. You couldn’t ever know. And there would be no reason to blame you, for you hadn’t done anything other than love someone else. Perhaps Stephen had fallen in love with the wrong person. He tells himself that over and over again, staring at the ring on your left ring finger and telling himself to just  _move on, it’s not that hard_ , but then he meets your eyes again and he finds he doesn’t have the strength to do that. It  _is_ hard to ignore the way his heart squeezes with what can only be love when he looks at you, despite the fact you were never his to begin with. No, he knows he hasn’t fallen in love with the wrong person, because you are all he sees in his mind’s eye when someone asks what he looks for in a woman. When he reads books and they mention girls with the prettiest eyes or the warmest smiles, he sees you.

Your husband is a kind man. He’s got a stable 9 to 5 job, drives a BMW, wears custom tailored suits. And most importantly, he loves you. The two of you are the picture perfect couple, a standard that everyone aspires to. Stephen is happy for you, don’t get him wrong. But during the late hours of the evening when he can’t sleep, all the  _what-if’s_ creep up on him because he always thinks about you and it only makes sense that he then starts to imagine how things could’ve gone instead.

What if he had met you when you were single? Would you be married to him instead, all this time later? Your smile has always been so welcoming to everyone, it’s what had pulled him to you, but would the smile you aimed at him mean much more then, be more than just a friendly grin? If you gazed at him, truly took him in, would he see the same love he felt for you reflected in your eyes, as though he looked into a mirror? Because he won’t skirt around it anymore. He  _knows_. The first time you saw him, there had never been the spark in your eyes that they talk about in movies or in books or in songs. Without even meaning to you’d twisted the knife in his chest, and Stephen thinks it’s the worst pain of all.

When you ask him if he’s met anyone that’s caught his interest yet, he lies. He tells you he’s met a nice woman at the bookstore or somewhere like that, and while that part is true, the “caught his interest” part… not so much. Though that goes without saying. You tell him you want to meet her, make sure she’s a nice person because you want what’s best for Stephen, as his friend, and it makes him smile because you’re so caring and it’s so second nature to you. He laughs and says you’ll all have dinner together one of these days. That never really happens. He doesn’t grow close enough with anyone to be truly committed. He doesn’t feel any sort of connection, and they never get farther than a few dates. And it’s not as if he’s  _not_ trying, or is making excuses to remain wallowing in self-pity. He does want the frustration to end, though that could never really happen unless you were his, but you’re not, nor would you ever be, and he’s not sure how many years down the road he’s still repeating that to himself, like a mantra.

But it’s far enough that he finds someone who reminds him of you. In fact, that’s the first thing he thinks of when he sees her: she reminds him of you. Her smile is warm and her eyes—they have that spark, what he’d longed to see in your own when he gazed at you. Her name is Meredith, and she’s an upstanding woman all on her own. She’s wonderful, and Stephen loves her. His feelings for you slowly ebb away, but they’re never completely gone, and he’s not sure if they’ll ever disappear entirely. He can’t help but wonder if Meredith notices. He wonders if, when she looks at him, she can see that small bit of longing he harbors for another. Whether or not she does, she gives him all her love, all 100% of it, and Stephen strives to give the same back but on his end it’s more like 99.999% because even when Meredith has an engagement ring on her finger, .001% of him wishes it were on you.

You’d been so delighted for them both. Meredith makes you a bridesmaid. Stephen makes your husband a groomsman. The two of you are so honored to be there, so excited on that day, and Stephen can see behind Meredith that you’re crying. You’re truly happy for both your friends, unable to contain your emotions, much like the others in attendance. It makes him smile because you’ve been so good to him, so good to Meredith the moment you’d met her. You think they’re made for each other, and as he stands here right now, Stephen is inclined to agree because Meredith is stunning in her wedding dress and she is so loving and he’s genuinely excited at the notion of spending the rest of his life with her.

He thinks he’s made it past all the drudge of unrequited love. He is happy with his wife, in their home through which floats talk of maybe starting a family. The last time he talked to you, you’d recently announced you were pregnant. The next time you all meet for dinner, you might even have a baby bump, and Meredith is excited at the prospect of seeing it.

There’s a drink cabinet in the lounge, and every so often Stephen likes to settle down and end the day with a drink or two, sitting in front of the fireplace. Meredith’s in bed at this time, and this is when he can just be on his own for a little while, before also retreating to the bedroom for the night. Tonight, however, he gets a little carried away. It’s more of an accident than anything, but then soon the burn is too good to resist and he’s drinking another glass, and then another, and then his vision is hazier and if he tried to speak it’d probably be slurred.

Meredith comes downstairs when she wakes up and notices Stephen still hasn’t joined her. She walks down the staircase quietly, seeing him there on the couch, empty glass on the end table next to him.

“Stephen?” she pipes up quietly so as not to startle him. And there’s not a need to speak loudly when there’s only her footsteps and the crackling of the fire.

Her husband glances up at her and she can see his eyes are cloudy from drinking too much. “[Name]? Is that you?” he slurs out.

Meredith’s breath catches in her throat and her chest feels tight. There are tears threatening to spill over the corners of her eyes and her heart is crumbling as the seconds go by in this painful silence. He hadn’t meant to say it, she knows. He’s drunk. But it’s hard to keep secrets in such a state as his, and she’s hurt. She’d always had this suspicion that Stephen was never actually  _hers_. He loves her, but she still notices that piece of him she’s unable to fill, and she knows it’s for someone else. But she loves him too, and she looked past that, just as he did when he met her. Perhaps she’d been foolish to think they could work past it together?

She takes a deep breath to steady her quivering lips and forces a smile onto her face. “Yeah, it’s me,” she whispers. Though he loved her, he’d always long for you, and she can’t do anything to change that. But they love each other in their own way in spite of that rift that will always separate them, which has gone unspoken until now, and will continue to go unspoken come morning. Because he won’t remember any of this, and for his sake, right here, right now, she’ll be what he truly wants. She loves him enough to do that, to power through the heaviness in her chest and through the tears which spill more freely now.

Stephen sets a hand on her cheek when she comes closer. The light of the fireplace behind her casts her in shadow, but when he runs a hand over her cheek he can feel the tears. “Why are you crying?” he asks, and he sounds genuinely concerned.

Meredith bites her lip to contain a sob as she helps him up off the couch to guide him to the bedroom. “Nothing, Stephen,” she murmurs. “I just love you so much.” When he smiles, it’s the happiest smile she thinks she’s ever seen him wear.


End file.
